The Real Thing
by redshipper
Summary: ...and yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first. But making love... making love... that's when two people become one.


b Title: /b The Real Thing

b Author: /b Lucy  
b Pairing: /b Booth/Brennan

b Spoilers: /b Death In The Saddle & Santa In The Slush  
b Rating: /b R  
b Summary: /b "...and yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first. But making love... making i love /i ... that's when two people become one."

i "And I'll take you for who you are

If you take me for everything

And do it all over again

It's all the same

I dont mind, I dont care

As long as you're here" /i 

(Sick Puppies – All The Same)

b The Real Thing /b 

The soft fingers circling her back had become a routine to them, as he caressed her back, soothing her to sleep in the dark room. Brennan couldn't clearly see his face, but something in the gleam of his eyes was comforting, as much as the warmth of his touching on her skin, moving up and down her naked back.

Usually they slept close to each other, at some extent touching but not really cuddling and she found out she really enjoyed the mingling of legs during the night or his hand holding hers, laced fingers close to his face as his hot breath brushed her while he whispered in the dark a myriad of things that most of the time were irrelevant to anyone but them. It was during one of those nights that she found out that he was afraid of the dark when he was a child and that he loved cotton candy. He had told her many different stories about his son and had heard her patiently as she babbled about her anthropological trips to random places. And that apples were her favourite fruit.

She had learned to adapt. Not once or twice had she woken up to startling find out she wasn't alone but sharing her bed with Booth; some others times she had woken up from a nightmare to find him staring worried at her, turning on the light to hold her and soothe her to sleep again, trying to wipe off the scary monsters that would haunt her mind when she wasn't paying attention.

Brennan had learned many things with him; she had learned that he would fuss during his sleep, more than enough to wake her up at the beginning, but she wouldn't complain. The boyish expression of peace on his face while he slept was too precious to be interrupted and she eventually learned to let that go; she got used to his heavy arm searching for her in the dark and wrapping itself around her waist as he mumbled words from which she could only understand her pet name.

And she treasured the little details of him. He would always insist on making her eat something in the mornings even though she didn't feel hungry at all; he held the door for her every time they got into an elevator and protectively put his hand to the small of her back, leading her the way. Most of those little habits she had never paid much attention when they were only partners.

Or maybe they have never been only partners. They've never been only anything, but always something else; he had been a partner and a friend, a partner and a cop she admired, for his infallible instincts, for his ability to read people and herself as well, for he always knew when she needed some quiet time to be sad. And never let her alone to be sad by herself, always bringing her food or just sitting by her side as she vented; he had never, for as long as she could remember, been only a friend, but the one who'd stayed when she thought everyone else would leave. He was the one who had held her while she couldn't hold back the tears when she found out the truth about her parents. He was the one who encouraged her to sail the oceans with her boyfriend when all the time he was in love with her.

Brennan had been thinking a lot about this lately. She tried to rationalize about it, but she couldn't find the exact words to explain or reason about the release of neurochemicals that happened everytime she looked at him and caused her stomach to flutter and her heart to feel light. Or why her knees got weak when he looked at her from across the table and she knew he was about to kiss her.

She couldn't remember where they were or what they were doing when they kissed for the second time, away from mistletoes and curious glances but she knew she was the one to take the first step. She put her hand on his face, caressing his cheek, as tender as the look in his eyes, staring back into hers. She saw the same warmth she did when they talked about crappy sex and making love and the same look she saw back then convinced her it was the right things to do.

She moved closer to him until their faces were inches from each other and she could feel his warm breath against her, the scent of his cologne, so faint and so subtle and warm, like everything she could relate to him; his warm eyes, warm hands, warm heart. A few seconds later their lips were together, softly brushing against each other, slightly moist and sweet. Brennan closed her eyes and both his hands were around her shoulders, sliding down to her waist, pulling her closer, holding her.

When his tongue touched hers it brought her back memories from the kiss under the mistletoe, where she eagerly looked for his tongue, exploring him as much as she could under the timeframe of five steamboats-whatever-that-meant. Now, they slowly found the pace, as if it was something that would happen eventually, and explored each other's mouth patiently, taking the time to enjoy it.

They kissed for several minutes, neither of them wanting to part, until, eventually, they did, gasping for air. Booth kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek and the way to her neck, nuzzling the soft skin he found there. His nuzzling eventually turned into open-mouthed kisses and slow and lazy circles he traced with his tongue, making her groan lowly, vibrating against him. She slid her hands down to his chest, grasping at the fabric of his T-shirt as he intensified his attentions to her neck, nibbling at her skin. Brennan felt the blood rushing faster in her veins, spreading heat to her cheeks and throughout her limbs.

As much as he didn't ask for her permission to enter her life, he didn't ask her permission to become her lover and their little escapades turned from a reccurent action and into a habit. Slowly he had been around her more and more until she coudn't conceive the idea of him not spending the weekend at her place.

When she had woken up from yet another nightmare, gasping in the suffocating darkness as she thought to be once again buried underground and now she couldn't hold back the tears of fear that always threatened to fall whenever she thought of that day; she wanted to lock herself in the bathroom, where he couldn't see her crying but, instead, she willed herself to breathe as he turned on the lights, confused, to met her moist face and sobbing self. He didn't inquiry her, he just held her and let her cry her heart out until she didn't know anymore if she cried because of the things she would've missed or for the things she did missed in her life. And Brennan found out that she was at ease to tell him those things because he wouldn't judge her, only hold her shaking hand in his.

"My world would have fallen apart if I had lost you that day, Bones," was the only thin he said, gravely, in a broken voice.

She smiled as he kissed both her salty cheeks.

Booth had traveled to California for some conference for a week and she was nursing an achy feeling in her chest since then. The day he arrived and crossed the lab at the Jeffersonian, grinning as he did so, she was bent against a metal table, working on some bones.

"Hey, Bones, I hope you haven't found yourself a new partner," she heard him saying.

Forgetting about the bones, she turned to look at him, as he walked up the stairs to meet her, stopping halfway. That weird fluttering in her stomach and the rush of adrenaline ran through her body and she could indentify them; she would nearly understand why she felt them if her heart wasn't pumping in her chest, nearly aching.

A grin spread on her face and didn't last long as she stepped closer, pulling him by the collar of his jacket for a kiss; since she couldn't really think straight for probably the first time in her life, she wasn't aware of the curious but timid glances at them and a mouth-gaped Zack staring. At this point she was only aware of the fireworks in her mind that made her feel like she was fourteen and in love with her lab partner.

And when they met at her place later that night she felt like she was that young grad student again, the night she knew she was about to lose her virginity to an older professor who eventually broke her heart. Brennan chuckled and shook those thoughts away and allowed herself to enjoy dinner and his stories from the trip, as he laced his fingers with hers. It's not like Brennan didn't like physical contact, she wasn't used to someone touching her as often as he did, from the protective small of the back touches to the tender and sweet lacing of the fingers across the table or before falling asleep, in the dark. Sometimes he would make circles with the pad of his fingers on her skin while watching TV or in a quiet moment, any part of her skin that he could reach, as long as he touched her. And more usually he would hold her possesively against his chest, his eyes deep dark with desire for her.

She liked to have sex with the lights on, he liked to have sex with the curtains open so instead of artificial light they had moonlight shining on her skin; some nights she let him take his time and take her as he wanted to, some other nights, more than frequently, she was too impatient to wait and would be on top.

That night in particular he let the lights on and took his time, they alternating bantering and bickering between moans and gasps and sex sounds. Brennan closed her eyes when he pulled her to her side and her leg instinctively wrapped itself around his hip; the familiar thrill and rush of excitement ran through her veins, pumped the oxygen off her brain as he slowly slid into her gazing into her eyes. Brennan held him tight, fighting to keep her eyes open, meeting up his slow pace.

She wanted to tell him, to verbalize the things she had mused about while he was away and, to some extent, she knew he could read it in her eyes, as a lazy smile spread across his face. The warmness of him was not only from his moist chest and arms wrapped tight around her waist and back, but from his eyes and pumping inside her; she felt something aside from the orgasm building inside her.

"I love you, Bones," he whispered, gasping as his own orgasm hit him, making him shudder against her.

As her own orgasm hit her as well, building up slowly and culminating with a quiver, Brennan knew the tightening in her chest was because of the tears she couldn't hold back anymore and let out with a sob. He loved her.

Soon she was sobbing loudly, not being able to hold it back anymore. All those years wondering if she really mattered to someone, when she thought of the ones who had walked away and she wondered, not being able to get answers.

She buried her face against his chest, allowing herself to unknot the tightening sensation in the form of tears salting his skin. He loved her. He loved her and he wouldn't walk away from her. Brennan didn't want this feeling to go ever fade.

"Hey, hey... are you okay? What happened? Did I hurt you?" Booth asked, worriedly, raising her head to look at him.

A laughter broke the sobs when his thumbs brushed under her eyes to wipe of the moist and Booth moved to pull out of her.

"No, don't move," she said in a raspy voice because of her tears "I'm fine, it's just..."

How could she explain to him something that she couldn't even put into words? She thought of their conversation, in one of those nights in the diner, about crappy sex and making love; not that sex for them was remotedely crappy, it was beyond good. Except she had never really understood why and how would two people try to break the unbreakable laws of Physics.

Except she was trying to do that right now, when she couldn't let go of him and felt such an urge to be close to him as if he was a missing part of her.

Maybe that was the answer she was looking for. Maybe he already was a part of her, filling her so overwhelmingly that it poured out of her.

When she wondered about love or if she had ever been in love, so confused and distinct were the descritions of actually being in love she heard around, she could never figure out if she had ever been in love or what in fact was the real thing.

He, whose quirky habits wouldn't bother her anymore and that took her for what she was and never tried to change her, was the answeres to those musings.

Brennan sighed against his chest and indulged into the little ritual of theirs, lacing her fingers with his.

b THE END /b 

A/N: The summary was extracted from the ending scene of i Death In The Saddle /i , where Booth and Brennan talked about crappy sex and making love. Actually, this whole thing was inspired by that little thing.


End file.
